Hide and Seek
by crazywriter10
Summary: An off-world mission turns into a dangerous game of hide and seek for Sheppard and Lorne. Warning: Slight Non-Con.


Chest heaving, Major Evan Lorne hunkered down behind a clump of bushes and a tree stump, ears straining for any sign that he wasn't alone. It was so quiet in that damn place, that stupid enclosure; there were no birds. The only sounds were man-made, and the only men within the six-acre enclosure were him and John. And John wasn't exactly in his right mind at the moment.

Shivering with a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature, Evan looked at the make-shift bandage on his left arm, courtesy of his rampaging CO.

_I can't blame him, _Lorne thought. _I can't blame him for being hyped-up on some foreign drug to the point where his sole intention in life right now is to find me and possibly kill me._

It was true though; Sheppard had been given a drug as part of a test from the Tretarans, the local people of NXC-489. Ronon had been down for the count with the flu, so Evan went with John instead. Teyla had said little about any sort of test, nothing about his CO turned into borderline crazy, yet here they were, him and John, running around an enclosure like a bunch of elk. Only Lorne wasn't so much running as being hunted.

There was a snapping sound to his left and Evan knew he'd stayed put too long. Sheppard was merciless in his pursuit, but this was borderline insanity. Hastily checking his watch, Evan had only twenty more hours to outrun his CO before the drug wore off or one of them was killed.

Another branched snapped.

"Shit," he breathed, getting carefully to his knees and keeping his head down. So far Sheppard had only been aiming for non-vital areas, but Lorne wouldn't put his past him to fire off a round or two at his head. He waited a few more heartbeats and then took off like a rabbit, keeping his head down. A shot whistled over his left shoulder as he weaved through the undergrowth, hearing Sheppard thumping along behind him. The chase was on again.

* * *

**Five Hours Earlier**

"A general meet and greet, sir?" Lorne asked after the wormhole disengaged behind them. He looked around; dense forests, an obvious path but nothing that felt out of place. It was a nice feeling to have and Sheppard didn't seem to be put off by anything, either.

"Yeah," Sheppard agreed, taking his sunglasses off and filing them away in his tac-vest. "Teyla says they have some sort of test for us to pass and then they'll draw up an agreement. Shouldn't be too difficult, right major?" John smirked.

"Not for you sir," Evan said, keeping a straight face. "You could have been MENSA."

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Sheppard stepped forward, heading for the clearly marked path. He should never have told Rodney that he could have been MENSA if he'd wanted to; the scientist took every advantage of that, but he wasn't sure how Lorne had found out. Deciding that he didn't care at the moment, he made small talk about sports with the other man, which casually turned to other things such as hobbies. Evan was the painter, John the golfer and they got into a small, joking argument about which was better. By the time that John was bringing up examples of why it was better to have a golf club than a paintbrush when opponents turned bad, they had reached the edge of the town. Both men stopped short upon seeing a crowd of people waiting, obviously for them.

"I am Weston, leader of our people," a tall, gangly man wearing a dark robe said, bowing. "Welcome to Frete. You must be John." His dark eyes looked John over, starting with the flyboy hair and ending at John's boots. Satisfied, he turned to Lorne. "You must be Ronon."

Lorne went a little pink in the cheeks and shook his head. "Sorry. Ronon's sick with the flu. I'm Lorne."

"Ah." Weston took a little more time in looking over Lorne than he had John and Evan denied himself the uncomfortable squirm he really wanted to do. There was something about those eyes that made him want to take extra care. "Are you John's equal?"

Lorne and Sheppard looked at each other over that one and John looked back first, shaking his head. "Lorne's my Second in Command. He works under me."

Weston's eyes lit up a little predatorily. Lorne looked over at Sheppard, but the Colonel seemed as relaxed as ever. Sure Lorne trusted Teyla, but he wasn't trusting the look in this man's eyes.

"As Miss Emmagen may have told you, we require a test before you may trade with us," Weston said, motioning with his hand to be followed. The crowd of people parted like the Red Sea. With Sheppard and Lorne following in his wake, Weston walked through the town and to a long, low-built house. Once inside, Weston urged them to take a seat in front of a large, oak desk that he situated himself behind. The room was dark from the color of the wood used to make the walls, and the torches lighting the place gave it an eerie feel. The fact that the sky outside was clouded over didn't help the atmosphere in the building.

"Our test is…different, than what you may have come across in your travels," Weston said, folding his hands neatly upon the desktop. "It is designed to test the leadership abilities of the second, in case the first may fall."

Sheppard looked a little confused and sat forward a little more. "So, it's not designed to test us both, but to test Lorne?"

"To test your underling, yes," Weston agreed. "We wish to see if he can measure up to your standards."

Lorne had the urge to say that if he didn't he wouldn't be in the position that was currently in, but he stayed silent, unsure of where this was all going. He got the part where it was a test for him, but he wasn't sure what Sheppard's part in it was. He was thoroughly thankful when Sheppard said, "How do you do that?"

"We have six acres of fenced in forest. That by itself is a challenging course, but we have heard from Miss Emmagen that John is an excellent tracker and fighter. To trade with you, we must see that any man fit to take your place, should anything happen, can 'fill your shoes' so to speak." Weston looked over at Lorne who was sitting ramrod straight and looking more than a little pale. "If you do not wish to trade with us, then you do not have to take the test."

Lorne was starting to get the idea that he was going to be put in the enclosure and had to keep himself alive for a set period of time. Sheppard was probably going to be on the outside looking in, monitoring his progress. Lorne had roughed it before; hell, he was in the Air Force and had a teammate by the name of Laura Cadman. Anyone who could handle Cadman could do anything, right?

"Can we talk about it?" Sheppard was looking not at Weston but at Lorne.

"Certainly. I will be back momentarily to get your answer." With that, Weston exited through a door behind his desk leaving Sheppard and Lorne alone.

"It's not about me here, Lorne," Sheppard said, looking at his XO. "I'm not exactly sure what they're going to have you do."

Lorne hated the idea of looking weak in front of his CO. He hated the idea of going back to Atlantis with nothing to show because he was afraid of the unknown. If he was afraid of the unknown, then what business did he have stepping through the 'Gate every day? What business did he have in even coming to the Pegasus Galaxy?

"No, sir," Lorne said. "I can do it. We need this agreement, if not for supplies then for an ally. Whatever test they have, I'll take it."

"All right, Major," Sheppard said. Neither one of them said a word after that until Weston came back in and Sheppard informed him that they would be going through with the test.

"I am very pleased," Weston said, that glint back in his eye. It took all Lorne could do not to shudder. "John, if you would go through that door, we can get started immediately."

Sheppard waved goodbye to Lorne and headed through the door behind Weston, leaving Lorne and the town leader staring at each other.

"What exactly am I going to be doing?" Lorne asked, if not for an actual answer but to break the tense silence.

"You shall see," Weston said with a smirk. "You shall see."

* * *

Lorne stood next to the door to the enclosure in his T-shirt, pants, and boots. He'd given them his tac-vest, his weapons, and all non-essential clothing (what they deemed non-essential, he wanted his jacket at least, damn it) and had crossed his arms over his chest while he and Weston waited for Sheppard to come back. It wasn't exactly cold, but it wasn't a balmy sunny day, either. He was a little on edge from the crowd that had gathered but some previous alien rituals had put him more at ease in front of large numbers than he'd thought possible. The one that he'd been naked for, though, still gave him residual nightmares from time to time.

Weston held up his hands and the chattering crowd fell silent. "We have travelers through the Ring, traders, competitors. They have agreed to take our test." A cheer rang out and Evan wondered just what he'd gotten himself into. Waving his arms for silence, Weston continued, "For twenty-four hours, this man, Lorne, must stay one step ahead, literally and figuratively of his superior, Sheppard. It will not be easy; Sheppard has been given the Ulpen, and will not rest until either the twenty-four hours is up or his prey has been caught."

_HUH!?_ went Lorne's brain and he stared up at Weston in disbelief. He hadn't mentioned anything about an Ulpen or whatever the hell that was, and certainly hadn't mentioned anything about twenty-fours and being prey. Prey, like he was being hunted. "What?"

Weston ignored his outcry. "A superior soldier is this Sheppard. Bring him forth for his underling to see."

Mind still reeling from the thought of introducing a drug into all of this, Lorne almost missed where to look. He then wished he hadn't; Sheppard had his tac-vest and his weapons. But that didn't scare Lorne as much as the dead, dark look in his eyes. It was like he hadn't ever felt anything happy before. That forced Lorne to remember that under all the easy-going, laid-back nature Sheppard was a soldier and when he needed to, he exercised that capability to the fullest. This was probably the last thing a lot of those Genii strike-forces saw before they died, prey to Sheppard's hunting abilities.

"Colonel?" Lorne said as loudly as he dared while Weston resumed talking to the crowd. Sheppard didn't respond; he only stared more forcefully at Lorne, memorizing the face. Lorne realized then that the Sheppard he knew wasn't in control anymore. For the next twenty-four hours the thing that would be chasing him through the forest would be a version of Sheppard that nobody probably ever wanted to see. As it were, he almost missed it when Weston turned to him and said something.

"What?" Lorne said stupidly, turning away from Sheppard's empty, soulless eyes to look at the town leader.

"You have a brief head start," Weston said slowly, as though speaking to someone not all there mentally. "I suggest you use it."

Lorne took one look at Sheppard, weighed his options, and took off running through the open door into the enclosure. The fastest way to get out of this nightmare was to start it. Sprinting as fast as he could go, he wanted to put as much distance between him and Colonel Crazy as he could. Not to long after he'd started, he heard the shrill clang of the metal door shutting and the roar of the crowd. Slowing to a walk, he looked around at the sea of trees, turning in a complete circle until he was looking back the way he'd come.

_Some test,_ he thought, turning and heading to his right. _It's like hide and seek. Only it could kill me._

The first hour passed slowly. Lorne didn't see any sign of Sheppard and was both relieved and stressed out by it. No sign of Sheppard meant that he wasn't found and lined up in the cross-hairs of his CO's gun, but it also meant that he had no idea where Sheppard was. Swallowing, he looked over his shoulder to make sure nothing was amiss behind him and kept on going. So far he hadn't found the fence that kept both him and Sheppard in there, and he had no intentions of being potentially boxed in even more than he was. He knew Sheppard, he knew his CO would do anything possible to cut down Lorne's area to roam, his mobility, and that included shooting him. But since Sheppard wasn't there, Sheppard couldn't shoot him.

It was then that Lorne realized things were very, very quiet. There were no birds, no other animals in this preserve. Well, at least none that he could see and he thought he'd wandered pretty far. The land wasn't completely flat, something he'd also discovered. There was a slight hill that dropped off completely on the one side into a ravine that was about twelve foot down, a stream at the bottom. That's where Lorne had gotten a drink and washed some of the dirt off his face. The ravine and stream were almost a quarter mile east of where he was. Or so he figured. The way he looked at it, he put the gate of the enclosure behind him, his south, and made directions from there. He'd already figured out it was useless to try and use the sun for directions. He'd tried that on the first planet he visited and had gotten lost in the woods for nearly an hour, trying to find his way back to the Stargate. Sheppard had teased him and his team had requisitioned him a large compass.

And did he wish for that compass now. Not to mention a weapon of some sort.

Probably the only thing that saved him was when he ducked his head and bent over to search the ground for any loose branches and then fell the rest of the way over as fire laced up and down his left arm. Immediately his other arm went over his head and then he was on his feet, running through the underbrush again, the adrenaline pushing away his pain. He knew Sheppard was behind him, knew it, and he headed for the ravine (or the direction he thought it was in). A quick look over his shoulder confirmed that Sheppard was behind him, kneeling now.

"Shit," Lorne breathed, skidding to a partial stop and diving to his left as the bullet went whizzing by him. Rolling to his feet he sprinted through a set of bushes, wincing at the thorns and saw what he needed. A low hanging branch. He jumped for it, his arm screaming in protest and hauled himself up. Staying close to the trunk so movement would be minimal, he didn't stop until he was twenty or so feet off the ground and hid by the leafy canopy. Resting with his back against the trunk, he pulled his legs onto the branch that was barely big enough for his butt and forced himself to stay still, calming his breathing. He took a chance and looked down through the leaves, watching the dark-hair of Sheppard appear beneath him. After a few tense moments, Sheppard moved on. Lorne wasn't sure if that was a ruse, but if Sheppard knew he was up there, wouldn't he have just looked up and shot through the leaves?

There was a sudden, violent hail of gunfire to his left and he jumped, knowing that Sheppard had done what he had just been thinking. He barely managed to stay seated on the branch, but he did then take the time to assess his situation. He was stuck up a tree with his CO on the ground, under the influence and clearly looking to do him harm. Or capture him. Lorne wasn't exactly sure and Weston hadn't mentioned what would happen should Sheppard catch him. Remembering the dark, blank look in Sheppard's eyes, Lorne wasn't sure he entirely wanted to find out.

The throbbing in his arm turned his attention back to his wound. It wasn't a scratch, but neither was it a solid hole in his arm. There was quite the chunk of flesh missing and Lorne knew that he'd have to figure something out until he could get back to the stream and clean it out. There was no way he could walk around with something like that no bandaged. Since he didn't have anything from his tac-vest with him, he'd have to make due with what he had and started ripping the bottom of his shirt. Once he had what he wanted, he used his good hand (thankfully his right) and his teeth and tied it around his injured bicep. Satisfied with that, he looked at the blood that had run down his arm and mentally said forget about it. It would itch later, but it wasn't an issue. Not unless there was some other predator besides Sheppard who was attracted to the smell of blood, but from what he could see so far, there wasn't a damn animal in the place.

Feeling relatively safe, he relaxed against the tree and tried to form a plan. A nasty voice in the back of his mind said that if Ronon was in his position, the Satedan not only would have already had a plan, but he'd have used it, subdued Sheppard and would be waiting out the twenty-four hours pain free and doing something useful/fun. But Lorne wasn't Ronon. And Lorne didn't have a plan yet.

_Yes I do_, he protested. _My plan is to stay alive._

**Well that's brilliant**, the nasty voice in the back of his head supplied. **That's a Rodney McKay plan right there.**

"You don't have to be nasty about it," Lorne muttered. "I'm not McKay. I don't pull city-saving plans out of my ass every day."

**Maybe you should take some lessons. And take some from Ronon on how to disarm a CO hellbent on killing you. That might help you now.**

"I'm not Ronon, either. I'm not six-foot four or whatever and haven't spent seven years running from the Wraith."

**So what the hell are you? Average Joe?**

"No, I'm Major Evan Lorne of the United States Air Force and I can't believe I'm having an argument with myself on an alien planet while being hunted by my Commanding Officer! Jesus!" He realized a little too late that he'd gotten a little too loud and looked around in a panic. Maybe being in a tree wasn't the safest place for him to be, now that he was certain Sheppard was probably doing a U-turn at the sound of his voice.

Slowly, because it was agony on his arm, Evan slipped down, branch by branch, and finally found his feet on solid ground. And even though it seemed monotonous, he took off at a jog again, unsure of what direction to go in because he hadn't seen which direction Sheppard had gone in. Oh well. Hide and Seek was a guessing game anyway.

* * *

Lorne spent the next three hours or so just wandering around the enclosure. He'd found the fence once or twice and steered clear of it, not wanting to get boxed in, but hadn't seen Sheppard since their first brief encounter. Lorne considered himself lucky. The sky overhead continued to darken with both an approaching storm and the coming nightfall. He shivered; the temperature was slowly but steadily dropping and he cursed whoever it was that invented this whole damn test to begin with and the fact that he didn't have his jacket.

Strolling along, he rounded a tree and stopped dead, frozen with fear. Sheppard wasn't more than fifteen feet away, crouched near the ground (presumably tying his boots) and it was a wonder he hadn't heard Lorne yet since he hadn't been exceedingly cautious in his steps. Unsure of what to do, Lorne slid his right foot back the direction he'd come, eyes fixed on Sheppard to make sure the soldier didn't move. He was almost fully behind the tree again when his boot crunched on a branch and the snap rang out. Swallowing hard, he stayed as still as he possibly could, using his peripheral vision to keep track of Sheppard. The Colonel rose slowly to his feet, hand on his gun and head slowly turning as he scanned the surrounding area.

"Lorne," Sheppard called softly, drawing the word out so that it was more than one syllable. "I know you're around here somewhere."

Even though it sounded like Sheppard's voice, the easy-going nature of it was gone. All Lorne could hear when he listened was the want for Sheppard to do his job, to find his prey and complete his mission. That was his singular, ruthless goal and his voice told Lorne that he was going to do everything in his power to achieve what he put his mind to. The flat, cruel tone also gave Lorne shivers but he didn't dare move even to twitch.

"You know, if you come out now we can end this," Sheppard said, slowly turning in place while trying to coax Lorne out into the open. "I'm not going to tell you what I'm going to do to you, but I am telling you that you can end this. Just come out."

Lorne almost broke; he almost did it but the eerily loud sound of a gun being primed made him stay where he was. What he needed was a diversion before Sheppard starting roaming the area in search of him.

Slowly so as not to make much noise, Lorne felt around with his foot for anything that might be used to make a diversion. A rock would be the best option, but a stick would work, too. Hell, he'd make due with anything at the moment. Luck must have temporarily been with him because the toe of his boot nudged a rock. Still slowing his movements he reached down, picked a rock the size of a baseball, and gave it a healthy heave as far as it would go off of Sheppard's right. The damn thing hit a tree with a thunk and Sheppard's head snapped around looking for the source of the noise. Heart in his throat, Lorne watched Sheppard raise his weapon and move in the direction the thump had come from. As quietly as he could, Lorne moved in the opposite direction, keeping as much space between himself and Sheppard that he could while keeping the other man in his sights.

Lorne considered himself safe the moment he couldn't see Sheppard anymore and leaned against the trunk, letting out a sigh of relief. It had only been almost four hours, so his watch said, and he was honestly wondering how he was going to survive twenty more if he couldn't find a way know where Sheppard was all the time. He wasn't asking for anything supernatural, just a little bit of help, really.

_Please?_ he looked skyward. _Anything. Anything you want to throw my way I'll take._

What he got was a bullet that glanced off the side of the tree he was leaning against scarily close to his right ear. Lorne instinctively crouched with a yelp and then starting running. More bullets followed him as he zigzagged through the underbrush, vaulting trees whenever possible just to make it a harder shot for Sheppard. He kept running until he no longer heard Sheppard's footsteps behind him and even looked over his shoulder to make sure he was in the clear. That's when he found a nice place to hunker down behind some bushes, ears straining for any sign that he wasn't alone.

Shivering with a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature, Evan looked at the make-shift bandage on his left arm, courtesy of his rampaging CO to make sure it was holding up against the stress he was putting it through.

_I can't blame him,_ Lorne thought. _I can't blame him for being hyped-up on some foreign drug to the point where his sole intention in life right now is to find me and possibly kill me._

There was a snapping sound to his left and Evan knew he'd stayed put too long. Sheppard was merciless in his pursuit, but this was borderline insanity. Hastily checking his watch, Evan had only twenty more hours to outrun his CO before the drug wore off or one of them was killed.

Another branched snapped.

"Shit," he breathed, getting carefully to his knees and keeping his head down. So far Sheppard had only been aiming for non-vital areas, but Lorne wouldn't put his past him to fire off a round or two at his head. He waited a few more heartbeats and then took off like a rabbit, keeping his head down. A shot whistled over his left shoulder as he weaved through the undergrowth, hearing Sheppard thumping along behind him. The chase was on again and he ducked behind a set of closely-packed trees, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. Sheppard was trying to wound him, why not fight back?

_Because he's your Commanding Officer and you could probably get nailed for this shit_, said Lorne's rational brain. But the moment his hand found a suitably-sized stick, rational thought took a temporary backseat and Lorne hefted it like a baseball bat, ready to swing. After a quick look over his shoulder to make sure Sheppard wasn't creeping up on him from behind, Lorne heard footsteps and tightened his grip on the branch. Maybe it was a good thing he'd played baseball in high school for a while.

He waited for the moment until he saw Sheppard's ear and swung. The branch connected with a crack and Sheppard dropped like a stone. Lorne breathed a sigh of relief while part of him screamed at him that he'd just knocked is CO unconscious on an alien planet. He threw the branch away from him and took a few shuddering breaths to steady his nerves. This entire fiasco was one adrenaline gushing, nerve-wracking mission from hell. Once he was sufficiently calm, he crouched down and began to relieve Sheppard of his weapons. Shaking hands emptied the clip in the handgun, throwing bullets everywhere so that if Sheppard really wanted them, he'd have to hunt all over the ground for them. Dismantling the actual gun, he threw that in opposite directions. Rolling Sheppard onto his back, Lorne paused for a second to realize that Sheppard looked very peaceful with his eyes shut. Keeping that thought and reaction for later, he unclipped the P-90 attached to the tac-vest and began to destroy it by dismantling it. He kept the clip and took the rest of Sheppard's, knowing the weapon would then be useless. Frisking the unconscious form found three knives, one of which Lorne took to arm himself and about eight powerbars. He took four at first, then reminded himself that Sheppard probably wouldn't need any of them while hyped up on the drug, and then left his CO one. The last thing he did before he turned and ran was put his shaking fingers to Sheppard's neck and verify that he had a pulse; it beat strong and steady beneath his hand. With that, Lorne turned and ran like a rabbit through the undergrowth, not once looking back.

Nightfall brought a rumble of thunder along with the darkness and Lorne shivered. He needed to find someplace to get out of the elements and fast. It wasn't cold enough to be a serious problem, but for somebody without a jacket it would make passing through the night hell. Lorne found the stream again by nearly doing a header down the ravine and splashing into his noisily. Feet now wet and cold, he wrapped his arms around him and peered through the growing darkness. Trudging up the other side of the ravine and then up over a small knoll, he allowed himself to smile. Up a short climb looked like a series of rocks, the indents of some darker than the others that led Lorne to believe there were caves.

Thunder cracked through the air whey lightening rent the sky in two, briefly illuminating the area and making Lorne jump. Rain began to sprinkle down, gathering speed and intensity.

_Nothing is ever easy_, he sighed mentally, and started to climb, feeling for handholds rather than seeing them. Flashes of lightening didn't help, shocking everything into clarity and then plunging it back into darkness. By the time he made it to the short ledge, Lorne was soaked to the bone, panting, and had a particularly nasty gash on the inside of his right forearm. He crawled further behind the rocks into a shallow cave as the rain increased from heavy to a torrential downpour. With his back against the wall, he drew his legs up and huddled in on himself, trying to stay warm. With nothing to eat, no way of making a fire (not that he would, he didn't want to catch unwanted attention), he squinted at his watch and then threw his arms up in exasperation when he couldn't read it.

Out of curiosity, he looked to his right and wondered how far back the cave went. On his hands and knees, shivering, he felt his way along the wall, hands in front of him, until he finally reached solid rock. The felt carefully around him until he was certain he'd reached the back of the cave, and looked toward the direction from which he'd come; he couldn't see the curtain of running water that had formed a barrier of sorts over the mouth of the cave and he could barely hear it. Thinking it was safer to be further back then further front, he squeezed himself into a corner in a ball and rested his head on his knees. By his reckoning he only had about sixteen more hours to outrun Sheppard. With that in mind in drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Lorne wasn't sure how long he slept, but when he woke up it was vaguely lighter than when he'd gone to sleep. That much he could tell. A quick look at his watch had him smiling. Only seven more hours and he was out of this mess. Thank the Almighty or whatever ruled this planet. Uncurling himself from the ball he'd been in was hell on his muscles, each cold and stiff, screaming in protest when he moved them slowly and creakily. He took stock of himself then, when he was stretched out and leaning against the wall of the cave. His arm didn't seem to be doing too bad, but the gash on his right forearm was looking a little nasty. Swallowing hard, he ripped more of his shirt to bind it, blinking back tears. He ate two of the powerbars he'd stolen from Sheppard and then crawled to the edge of the cave. Taking a very careful scan of his surroundings without actually leaving the cave (including looking above him as best he could because Sheppard was one sneaky SOB) he deemed it safe enough. He climbed down the way he'd come up, careful of the sharp rocks that he hadn't seen the night before. He stopped at the stream to get some fresh water. Only seven more hours to kill before he could get out of this nightmare.

It would be the longest seven hours of his life, he was damn sure.

* * *

Lorne was starting to get nervous. It had been six hours since he'd moved from the cave that he'd stayed in during the night, and more hours than he could count that he hadn't seen any sign of Sheppard. He was beginning to get worried.

_For all you know, he could be laying in wait for you around the next freaking tree…_

The thought had barely reverberated through his head when a branch swung for his chest. Lorne sidestepped and took the blow on his upper arm, the same arm that had the damn bullet gash in it. He hit the ground hard, unable to draw a breath through the pain. He gathered enough of his senses to roll when Sheppard swung the club for his head, struggling to get to his feet. He left his side unprotected and paid for it, barely hearing the snap of one of his ribs but definitely feeling it. He tried to draw another breath, seeing stars, but kept rolling to avoid the club. He made it to his feet, staggering, and promptly ran into a tree. He screamed when Sheppard broke his arm against the trunk with the branch, swearing. Yanking the limb back against his body, he took off at a dead run, weaving like a drunkard. He didn't have to look back to know Sheppard was behind him.

He ran back toward the stream, lost his footing and slid down the hill on his ass, rolling when he got to the bottom. Scrambling back to his feet, he looked behind him. Sheppard stood at the top of the hill, his eyes nothing but black evil, and stared him down.

"Lorne," Sheppard called in a sing-song voice. "How ya feelin'? Broken arm?"

Lorne flushed. Sheppard was taunting him, knew he was hurt. When Sheppard started down the hill he turned and fled again. In an instant he was down on his knees, his left ankle slipping from under him and turning against the slick rocks. He landed in the water with a grunt and a curse.

_Well shit, I'm really fucked now,_ he thought. There wasn't anywhere that he could go. He couldn't even outrun Sheppard now that he'd just done who knew what to his ankle. It was completely fabulous. He was so utterly screwed. He almost didn't care when Sheppard tackled him, smacking his cheekbone off a rock and his forehead off another. With his ankle still stuck in the hole it had created between the rocks, he was roughly shoved onto his back. Looking up, he saw Sheppard's face, the way the other man was grinning sadistically.

"Lorne," Sheppard said, baring his teeth. "You thought you could run from me?"

Lorne was panting, his broken rib digging into him from Sheppard sitting on his chest. "I…I tried."

Sheppard laughed, cold and cruel. "Not hard enough." He took Lorne's wrists in his hands, pulling them up over his head. It strained the wounds on his arms and pulled at his side. His head throbbed in unison with his heart and ankle. "Not hard enough. Keep your hands there." He shifted down Lorne's body so that he was sitting on the other man's hips, successfully pinning him and allowing his erection to come in contact with the space just beneath his belly button.

In retrospect, _that_ was what scared Lorne the most at the moment. Physical wounds would heal, but if Sheppard were to do anything of the nature that his body was suggesting, Lorne wasn't sure if he was strong enough mentally to handle it. It wasn't as though he wasn't attracted to Sheppard, but it wasn't something he wanted to be forced into. If Sheppard came onto him, he wanted it to be without the aid of a drug and not on some fucked-up world where he was supposed to pass a test. And speaking of that test, he was failing worse than he'd failed sixth grade geometry. And that had been _bad_.

Sheppard left Lorne's wrists where they were to pull on the hem of his t-shirt and start unbuckling his belt.

_Fight, you idiot! Fight!_ Lorne's fight or flight instinct kicked in again and he swung wildly with his good hand toward Sheppard's head. The blow, weak though, stunned Sheppard enough to throw him off of Lorne completely. He rolled immediately to the other side and struggled to his knees, fulling intending on crawling as far away from Sheppard as he could get. He didn't get very far before Sheppard tackling him from behind, driving him onto his front and driving the breath from his body once again. Not being able to breathe properly was getting annoying. Lorne couldn't help the sob that escaped him. He hadn't succeeded in getting away from Sheppard, had probably only succeeded in making the man even more pissed off than he already was and had given him yet another incentive to kill him. Tears of pain and humiliation came to his eyes as Sheppard sat up, sitting on his back and ran his hand through Lorne's hair. He was going to get raped by his CO off-world…

"Shep, please," Lorne said, not above begging for either his life or the end of it. "Please…" His voice cracked and a tear slid down his cheek. From his left came the beeping of his watch.

The beeping of his watch.

His twenty-four hours were up. Any second now Sheppard would turn back into the man that he normally was and they could get out of this without scarring each other further. Lorne stayed with that thought until Sheppard stuck his hands up the back of his t-shirt to feel the smooth skin next to his spine. Lorne had almost consigned himself to what he thought was going to happen when Sheppard's hands stilled, pulling free of the confines of the shirt. There was a hand on his shoulder, an unsteady one, and the next thing he knew Sheppard was lying full-length on him, presumably dead to the world. Now that it was over, Lorne let himself go and cried for the pain that he hadn't had time to experience before, and sobbed. Unable to curl in on himself because of Sheppard's dead weight, he brought his arms in, wincing at the pain in his broken one, and cried harder. When that was done and he'd finally emotionally wore himself out (not to mention his adrenaline had stopped flowing) he welcomed the darkness that took him.

* * *

Sheppard opened his eyes, wincing immediately at the light that sent his head back to pounding. With a groan, he pushed himself up, his right hand encountering something soft instead of the hard rocks that his left felt. Blinking furiously he looked down and was simultaneously confused and horrified to find that he was lying completely on Lorne. Even more frightening was that he wasn't moving much; his torso barely rose with his breathing. Sheppard got off him in an instant and rolled him gently, carefully. His eyes were closed, a dark bruse already forming on his cheekbone and forehead. There was a bloody bandage around his bicep and his forearm, and his right wrist was twice the size it should be.

"Lorne? Lorne, wake up," Sheppard called, tapping his XO on the cheek.

Lorne rolled his head to the sound of Sheppard's voice and opened his eyes a crack. He saw that Sheppard was above him, reaching for him, and he flinched away. The hands followed him and he tried to roll, tried to get away. Sheppard was still after him…Where was his damn adrenaline when he needed it most?

"Easy," Sheppard said, trying to stop Lorne's flailing. "Easy, Lorne, you're okay." It wasn't an outright lie because Lorne wasn't in any danger of dying, but it wasn't exactly the truth because somebody had done a number on his XO.

It was the change of voice that caught Lorne's attention. The man with no conscience was gone; Sheppard, the one that he knew, was back. That started another round of tears and he looked at Sheppard's hazel eyes, glad to see the compassion and kindness that was there. There was also a great deal of concern, but Lorne didn't understand why. He was floating gracefully; his chest felt tight, and parts of his body hurt like hell, but he was alive and Sheppard wasn't going to kill or rape him. He was alive.

"Whoa, easy," Sheppard said again, one hand on Lorne's chest and the other tucking his arms against his sides. "Easy. You're okay now." Lorne took a great shuddering breath and looked at the sky. "There we go. Do you think you can walk?"

Lorne shook his head. "Not well. I…I turned my ankle." _However long ago it was when you were still chasing me to kill me._ He wanted to say it but he didn't. He wanted to say a lot of things but he knew that it wasn't the right time or place. He knew that Sheppard would feel guilty over it, over everything, but ultimately, it had been Lorne's choice to do the test. Not that he was completely responsible, too, but it was overall complicated.

"Okay, we'll go slow." Sheppard got his feet to find his legs shaky and his knees threatening to buckle. Gently, watching Lorne wince and groan with pain on the way to his feet, trying to figure out how to cradle his side and his arm at the same time and Sheppard threw an arm around his waist to help him be steady. He hoped the other guy looked worse because Lorne had taken one hell of a beating. But it wasn't the time or the place to start asking questions. And Sheppard's head hurt too much for him to do much thinking. "Let's go home."

Lorne managed a nod. _Thank you, God._

_

* * *

_

Sheppard sat in the chair beside Lorne's bed. He had a headache, but it was a minor thing that he'd gotten used to on the trek back to the 'Gate. What had been distracting him was the fact that Lorne couldn't walk a straight line and he'd been trying to distance himself from Sheppard as much as possible. Lorne hadn't been on the gurney for thirty seconds and he was out like a light, thanks to the good drugs that Carson had brought with him to the Gateroom when Sheppard had said he was coming in with an injured XO. Carson hadn't asked any questions, but he did have that look in his eye that meant he would be asking some later due to the fact that Sheppard was relatively unhurt while Lorne had clearly gotten the shit kicked out of him. Elizabeth had had the same look in her eye, but she had been easier to momentarily placate. Carson would eventually need to know everything, and that was where Sheppard was currently caught in a conundrum.

Up until he'd stepped through the Stargate to head back to Atlantis, he hadn't remembered a damn thing. He hadn't remembered being asked to take a test, hadn't remembered Lorne's look on his face at the time that told him he wasn't sure about it, but didn't want to let anybody down. Once back in Atlantis, he remembered being trapped in his own body while the drug took over. He'd been forced to watch the darker side of his self and soul hunt Lorne like prey and how he'd thought about taking the other man forcefully. Sheppard had been toying with the idea of beginning to make his motives known to Lorne, but not in that way. And certainly not under those circumstances. But he hadn't been able to do anything. He'd been a bystander to the damn drug, to his ulter-ego. And he'd hated it with a passion.

Now, seeing Lorne so vulnerable lying on the bed, hooked to various tubes and wires, it was almost heartbreaking. There was a cast on his right wrist and white bandaging on his arms. His cheekbone was brilliantly purple and a goose egg had formed on his forehead. His ankle was wrapped in an ACE bandage and propped on pillows. What Sheppard didn't know was what kind of mental injuries lay beneath the surface. He knew Lorne could take a lot of shit, but his CO suddenly becoming a hunter and hunting him like a neanderthal probably hadn't been peachy to experience.

"John."

Sheppard turned and looked at Carson. The doctor brought over another chair and sat beside him. "He's a tough lad."

"Yeah," Sheppard said. He smirked. "You should see the other guy." _Even though that other guy is me. And I'm fine_.

"Some of his injuries look like they came from the same type of weapon that caused yours," Carson said carefully, keeping his face neutral. "I know yeh have to write a report, but really John, I need to know what happened out there. Yeh had traces of a drug in yer system. It's gone, now, but something tells me it wasn't when it was just the two of yeh out there."

Sheppard looked at Lorne's sleeping face, the way his body compensated for his ribcage by taking shallower breaths. "Ronon was supposed to come with me."

"Aye, but he had the flu."

"Yeah. Teyla had said something about a test, a small one, to see if we were worthy." He swallowed. Both he and Carson knew that most this wouldn't make it into the report just to save some of their dignity, and not so much John's, but Lorne's. "They were testing Lorne. What we didn't know was that they were going to drug me and set me loose on him in an enclosure." He turned to look at Carson's sympathetic blue eyes. "I hunted him, Carson. Like an animal. I didn't even care that he was hurt. I shot at him. Those bullet wounds that he has are from me. Except for that gash on his arm, all the injuries that he has are because of me." Guilt tore at his tone.

"Don't.."

Carson and Sheppard turned to look at Lorne. His eyes were open, but blurry, and he struggled to keep them that way. "Don't…blame…" Sheppard knew Lorne didn't have the strength to say what he wanted to, but he got the gist of it. _Don't blame yourself_. "I…said…yes…"

Carson looked at John for confirmation and Sheppard nodded. Lorne had said yes to the test, even though neither of them had known what it was really going to be like. Carson stood, absently taking Lorne's pulse while asking, "How are yeh feeling?"

"Hurts…" Lorne closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, toward Sheppard. "Don't…blame you." He tried to say it with his eyes because clearly his mouth wasn't getting the job done. _I don't blame you._ "Knew…the risks." _I knew what I was getting into. I don't blame you._

The doctor fiddled with one of the IV bags and Lorne's eyes slid shut again. Sheppard couldn't help the stab of guilt he felt because Lorne was lying in the infirmary bed, drugged to his eyeballs, and would face at least a few weeks recovery. That would be plenty of time for John to get eaten alive by his guilt.

* * *

"Thanks," Lorne said, taking the opened juice-container from Carson. He was still in the infirmary but sitting up. The bruises on his face were looking much better, but his ankle was still the size of a softball, wrapped, and on a pillow. He was battling a slight infection for one of his bullet wounds but was much better over all.

"I'm weenin' yeh off yer meds because theres not the need for them anymore," Carson said, hands in the pockets of his lab coat. "All yeh got now is Tylenol and antibiotics. A few more days off that foot will do yeh wonders but after that yeh can go back to sleepin' in yer own bed."

Lorne grinned. There wasn't anything wrong with a narrow, slightly uncomfortable infirmary bed, but it wasn't anything like the bed in his quarters with the exception that it, too, was also very narrow. He took a sip of juice and leaned back against the pillows. He was still a bit feverish and achy, but it was getting a lot better.

"Lorne?"

He looked over toward the waiting room and found Sheppard standing uneasily in the space between the curtain and the foot of the bed. This was the moment that Lorne had been waiting for since he'd been able to sit up for more than five minutes at a time without wanting to go back to sleep. This was the part where Sheppard would apologize and apologize and feel guilty all while Lorne was recovering and working toward getting back on active duty.

"Have a seat, sir," he said, putting the juice on the rolling tray. He wasn't all that thirsty anymore, really.

Sheppard sat in the hard plastic chair by Lorne's bed and the two of them just stared at each other for a while. Finally, Sheppard cleared his throat.

"How are you doing?"

"Better," Lorne said honestly. "Doc says I should be outta here in a little while, few more days, at least."

"That's good, that's good," he said, twisting his hands. "Look, Evan," Lorne's head snapped around to stare at his CO. Sheppard almost _never_ used his first name, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what I did to you."

"Sir?"

"It was…I just…I was in there, but I couldn't help myself…" Sheppard was on a roll now, deciding that it would be best to get every painful, guilt-ridden confession out of his system at once.

"Sheppard?"

"…I hunted you like an _animal_ and it was…it was _wrong_..."

Lorne knew that Sheppard wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise unless he broke through the rambling. "_John!_"

John stopped mid-word and stared at Lorne.

"Look," Lorne said, now that he had Sheppard's attention. "I know you feel guilty about what happened, especially in the enclosure, but neither of us knew. All you knew was that they were going to give you some sort of test. You didn't know that it was going to be me that was tested and you didn't know that there was going to be any drugs involved. Neither of us knew. For that, it's not your fault."

Sheppard finally met Lorne's eyes and looked long and hard for any sign that the other man was uncertain. Lorne stared back. "I mean it, John. It's not your fault."

It finally sunk in and Sheppard nodded. He knew there would be no hard feelings between the two of them and things could go back to normal.

"Besides," Lorne said with a shrug, "it's not the worst that's happened to me."

Sheppard pulled the chair closer, leaned back, and propped his legs up on the side of Lorne's bed. "Yeah? What is?"

With a grin, he started on a story, which prompted Sheppard to have to dispute it, and that's how they spent the rest of the afternoon, trading stories of missions gone pear-shaped and other "disasters" on Atlantis, and deciding that the next mission they went on together it was going to be to the most boring place in two galaxies where nothing could go wrong. Of course, everything was subject to change because it was, after all, the Pegasus Galaxy.


End file.
